


The Arkadians Have Their Tea

by shortitude



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, How to Train Your Dragon AU, I want to say Toothless is also a main character, and i couldn't replace the Best Boy, because this is a HTTYD AU, real vikings swear - even if it is more implied that they are vikings, there's a lot of swearing in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/pseuds/shortitude
Summary: Seven lessons Raven learns from dragons, once she is allowed to learn them. (How to Train Your Dragon AU, with a mature Braven twist.)





	The Arkadians Have Their Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by [The Vikings Have Their Tea](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7y17HWnW78); last song on the HTTYD soundrack. 
> 
> For [semele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele).

There have been dragons in the world since long before Raven was born. 

Dragons attacking Arkadia, stealing away their sheep and goats, halving the number of eligible warriors in fire-swept fights; the dragons are what mothers and grandmothers would scare away their little ones with, to get them to be obedient. Slaying them would be what parents would incense their rowdy teenagers with, later on, to get them to follow the family tradition. 

For Raven, the stories of dragons come to her in small little nuggets that she has to overhear from other families when she's little. 

After the Great Journey, her mother doesn't return in a mood to talk. It's the shock of the battle; some warriors shake it off easily, some live the rest of their lives with it haunting them. The unspoken truth is that the latter group does not enjoy very long lives. 

Before the Journey, Raven remembers a bright, boisterous woman who taught her how to braid her hair to symbolise strength and power, who named her after Odin's favourite birds to make her a good omen amongst the villagers, who loved her and bounced her on her hip and in her arms until Raven laughed that gurgling sound that toddlers make with their mothers. But then the dragons attacked and took their entire flock of sheep, and Chief Griffin hoisted everyone to the boats and gave the order to follow them. 

Rosa left Raven in the care of the village blacksmith, who was at the time still recovering from a fresh injury. He wouldn't be of use to the tribe in battle, and he'd be less useful even if he went and died, so Sinclair was ordered to stay. 

(In later years, Sinclair would confess his regrets over this. How he wished he'd gone, how he wished he'd joined them. The voyage needed its chief strategist, and maybe if that had happened, the loss would've been... _less_.)

A hundred set out on the Great Journey. Forty-seven return. Raven's mother is one of them, but it becomes quickly clear even to five-year-old Raven that the woman is changed. Before the Journey, Rosa is a bright, boisterous woman who loves her daughter and wants to give her the world. After the Journey...

Raven gets one more, agonising year with her mother. Her young mind does not yet grasp what could have happened to make the woman shut down, but her mother never braids her hair again. The hut smells like ale, which Rosa uses to dim the pain and trauma, and to forget the screams, the fire, the loss. 

One evening, in winter, when Raven turns six, she braids her hair like mother used to before going to battle. She does it all herself, and shows her with a proud, hopeful smile. The fumes of ale are weak enough that her mother sees her through the fog, and smiles back, reaching for her. That night, Raven sleeps coddled, tucked warmly in Rosa's arms, her hair petted slowly until she dreams. 

In the morning, her mother is gone. 

Sinclair takes her with him into the smithy, to distract her while the Chief prepares the funeral. Raven never leaves his side. 

For thirteen unlucky years, the blacksmith becomes her home. Her hut remains as cold as her mother left it. 

\---

“Look, all I'm saying is that we're wasting unnecessary man and womanpower out there, and with my catapult we could just shoot them out of the sky!”

The suggestion is met with uproarious laughter, but then again, Raven pretty much expected that. What else could you expect from a bunch of battle-hungry warriors? 

_Look at them_ , she thinks, standing in the middle of the hut and glaring at the council of ten strong warriors mocking her ideas. _If they can't jump on the dragon's head for the glory of Odin, how will they reach Valhala? With a catapult?_

“Raven, darling,” says the Chief's wife, with a small and gentle smile, purely beatific. “If we cannot jump on a dragon's head to claim glory of Odin, how will we reach Valhala? With a catapult?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “Odin has his belly full of your glorious battles and your glorious deaths,” she snaps, causing a sudden silence. Unaware, she takes one step closer and grows even more insistent. “I'm talking about more important things here, people. Like living to see your children grow old. Like not forcing your elderly parents to bury you young. Gods above, it's not like the dragons are any weaker in numbers because of us! For all we know about them, we're just a chink in their armour, but to us? To us, they're a menace. Just _think_ outside the box for one moment here, and consider -”

“Enough.” Chief Kane rises from his seat, sweeping his hand in a cutting gesture, which is meant to silence Raven, but only increases her fury. Silent fury she can handle; hell, she's been a silent fury her whole life. “Enough of this. We are not spending resources on contraptions that will not work, when we can use the wood and the ore to make more and better weapons. Winter is almost over, the dragons will begin their incursions into Arkadia, and we will be ready. As _warriors_ we will be ready, Raven. You're free to go.” 

“I could test this -”

“No.”

“- if you saw the way it worked against a dragon, maybe you'd believe me -”

“I said -”

“- so just _let me_ come to battle, just _once_ and I will prove you wrong --” 

“ _NO._ ”

The small hut shakes with the word. To most people in the room, it feels final. To Raven, it just feels humiliating. 

Blinking back tears, stifling down the rage and the righteous fury, she crouches to gather her blueprints and small model of a catapult. She rises with dignity – all the dignity afforded to her by the iron-cast brace, at least – and faces Chief Kane in silence for a few seconds. She can see, easily, that the man is upset by having been forced to shout. She can see that his eldest son is waiting to see if there will be an order to forcibly remove Raven from the hut. 

She'd rather lick a poisonous dragon's back than let that happen. 

As she takes one step back, the tension in the room sags, Chief Kane's shoulders sag, his son's hand over the hilt of his sword (she forged that sword!) sags, all in relief. She bets they think the storm is over. 

“My mother fought for you,” she says, her voice quiet and even. “She followed you in battle and lost her mind, and we lost the last Chief over a stupid, childish belief that we are greater than a horde of dragons. You have the chance to be the one under whose rule Arkadia finally blooms, but you've got your stupid traditions to take care of instead. Traditions kill us, Chief Kane. Breaking from them might give us a fighting chance. But don't listen to me, what do I know? It's not like I've ever followed you into battle myself.” 

Huts don't have doors, but Raven wishes this one did, so she could slam it satisfyingly behind her as she storms out. 

\---

“I heard you're going to be given the title of Village Little Shit,” Octavia says when she sidles up to the blacksmith window two days later, plonking another broken knife on the counter. 

“I'm charging you commission for these starting now,” Raven says in greeting, taking the knife with a tense little smile. 

“What the fuck's a commission? Gods, you weirdo – nevermind. Hey, is it true that you called dad a fuckwit?”

Raven looks up from where she's already started working on tightening the hilt of the knife, to find Octavia half-leaning into the forge with a manic little smile. “I would never disrespect the Chief that way,” she says, solemnly. “Even if he is a fuckwit,” she mutters to herself. 

“I heard that,” Octavia sings from the window, and laughs. “To be honest, those might've been Bell's words. You know he likes to dramatise everything you do.” 

Raven's cheeks are burning, but not because of the burning fires in the forge. “Yeah right, he does not. Your brother would love nothing more than to get the chance to carry me out of the Chief's hut -” 

“And ravish you behind a bush? Yuck, but yeah.”

“Yuck,” Raven repeats dryly, and goes back to work. “He does not want to ravish me.” 

“I keep telling you, he _does_. His knees get all wobbly whenever I bring you up or mention you, and his voice pitches up all, _What did Raven do?_ ” Octavia laughs. “I may have told him you swam naked after midnight to try and become a witch, and he had to leave the room because his face was all red.”

Raven sticks the pointy end of Octavia's knife into the wooden counter of the window, inches away from the woman's hand. “Do _not_ speak shit about me, little brat.” 

Octavia grins back in defiance, and leans over to press a disarming kiss on the tip of Raven's nose. “I made a vow to Freya to find your love, Raven, and I intend to keep it. Even if you are the Village Little Shit.” 

“Shut up and pay me.” She has to swat away the hand that tries to ruffle her hair, and her menacing glare barely works this time. This is what happens when she makes _friends_ , gods dammit.

For good measure, she adds, “And stay our of my sex life. It's fucking weird. Mind your own.”

\---

It's another two weeks before the first dragons of the season arrive. Two weeks which Raven spends sleeplessly, working at building a functional catapult – not as large as her ideal one, but good enough – out of the spare resources the forge has. Sinclair pretends like he does not notice, but at this point, Raven knows the old man is just indulging her in the hopes that she'll give up her foolish dreams. 

What makes her angry about all of this is knowing that she's not exactly building something that will hurt the villagers in any way. She's giving their small army against dragons a chance to _not_ have to jump the beasts to slay them. A chance to not bring back more dead Chiefs, or traumatised warriors, or injured youths. 

That night, her joints hurt like a bitch, almost as an omen in their own right. She pushes herself to keep going, because the alternative is to return to her empty, cold hut, and pretend that she doesn't resent the Chief for every single pointless battle. 

The air is thick with humidity, and the village is silent for the most part, as darkness falls. 

And then, pandemonium. 

The alarm is sounded, and then there's dragon-fire. Then there's Raven, scrambling to drag her catapult to a good spot. Then there's fighting, screaming, and the braying sounds that sheep make as they're flown away. In the chaos, nobody pays attention to Raven, going against the Chief's wishes. 

She needs to perfect the visor, she thinks to herself as she takes aim. The dragons – small and large – make it difficult to decide which one to aim at, and she doesn't want to waste her ammunition. So that's one problem she has to calculate into her plans next time. She keeps her eyes on the sky, yet even so, she hears it before anyone can actually see it. 

There is a flash of lightning, a gust of air, and someone screaming “Night Fury!” at the top of their lungs. 

“What's a Night Fury doing here?” she thinks out loud, and tries to chase a ghost of a target. It's pointless, she knows; nobody's ever actually defeated a Night Fury, nobody's even seen one. It hits her, though, that if she could do it with the catapult, then the Chief will take her idea seriously. 

It's still a waste of ammunition, since she's shooting blind, but it's worth it. Nobody ever reaches glory without a few risks. 

She is aiming at thin air, based on prediction of where the dragon is flying, and it's as dark as Odin's asshole out there, but she hears the hit meeting target. 

“Oh my fuck,” she laughs, and stands up, letting out a crowing cheer. “Oh my _fucking_ -”

And then the Monstrous Nightmare attacks her. 

\---

“You are _grounded_ to the forge.” 

“I'm nineteen years old, you can't just ground me!”

Chief Kane lets his arms drop in defeat, and whirls around to give Sinclair a look, which Raven guesses means _You deal with this._

“She's nineteen years old, Chief,” Sinclair says. “You can't just ground her.” 

Raven grins at her adoptive father over the Chief's shoulder. 

“Enough, Raven,” Kane says again, turning around on time to still catch the last hint of that grin. “Enough. You've tested out your weapon, it did nothing. I know that our ways don't get results, I know they waste lives, but it's all we have. It's the best we have. I know you're angry.” He points to her leg, and she wishes that she weren't stuck in the infirmary bed right now, looking even more pathetic. “You were very nearly one of our wasteful losses, because of my choices. It ends now. The abled will fight, the injured will stay back to defend the village, should the time ever come. And I expect you to help them, not to mock their efforts.” 

She swallows another surge of fury, and looks away. That's a low blow to deliver to someone already lying down. She followed Chief Kane into battle two years ago, claiming to want to follow in Rosa's footsteps, and she's still forced to remember that she has to pay for her mistakes even now. It's not like she _wanted_ to have her foot crushed under a dragon's corpse on the battlefield. It's not like she wanted her first victory to end in pain. It's just that _that's_ what a war is like. No winning sides, only losses. 

Her gaze finds Bellamy in the corner of the room, looking at her with those dark, serious eyes of his, and she remembers the agony that was him trying to wrestle her out from under the dragon, the desperate way he'd grabbed onto her and swore they wouldn't lose her, he wouldn't lose her. (Not that they talked about it.) 

Raven bites the inside of her cheek, and clears her throat to catch his attention. Not that she needs to – he hasn't taken his eyes off her. “Thanks. For having my back out there,” she tells him. The Nightmare nearly would've gotten her, if he hadn't jumped in the way. It's enough to transport her back into the past, two years ago, when they were both younger, and she was terrified, and he promised that he'd look after her. He did. She just can't stop resenting him for it, apparently. 

“Don't do that again,” Bellamy says, the first few words he's said to her in a year, and leaves the room. 

\---

Contrary to popular belief, Bellamy does not have a say in everything she does. 

Once the healer says she's fine to go, Raven heads into the woods. She remembers the hit – she didn't imagine that – and if she could find the dragon, that'd show them. 

It takes a little bit of walking blindly around, because this isn't an exact science – it's going based on her memory, after all, and that's a little bit hazy at the moment after getting flung about like a ragdoll by the Nightmare. Eventually, she finds it: a tree that's been knocked over by something falling against it. From there, the trail is easy to follow. 

The Night Fury is a smaller dragon than she expected. No longer than the young tree he knocked down, and no wider than maybe a large hut. He is – well, she's assuming it's male here, isn't she? – lying down, knocked out. It's been a full nine hours since the fight, she thinks, so the dragon shouldn't be knocked down. Upon closer inspection – from a safe distance – she notices that it's tangled in ropes. 

So, probably not knocked out, just sleeping because there's nothing better to do. 

She's shaking as she sneaks closer. This isn't her closest encounter with a dragon by a long shot, but it is the scariest one so far. The Night Fury, invisible tormentor of innocent sheep. And people. Fast, ruthless, and - 

“You're missing a tail wing,” she whispers, the words coming out in surprise. It's the right side, but it's enough to make her reconsider the beast. She did that, because otherwise how would it have been able to fly last night. She did this to a dragon, and it should make her feel better, but it doesn't. The truth is that even on the battlefield, she never slayed one. The truth is that she's not sure she sees the point of doing that. 

But this one, she has to come face to face with, and see the horror and pain that humans are capable of inflicting. _What's the difference between a dragon and a wolf,_ she'd asked Sinclair once, when she was ten. After all, wolves hunt their food too, and nobody goes after wolves for doing what is in their nature to do. They just build taller walls and assign guard shifts. But dragons, dragons are hated for it, because they're terrifying. Because they're a symbol of power, and if you slay a dragon, you become a hero. If you slay a wolf, you're just a capable farmer. 

She drops down to the forest floor in front of the slumbering dragon, sitting down with defeat. The knife in her hand feels like a mockery, now. 

“Look at you,” she murmurs. “You're not a menace, you're just big.” 

She could kill it now, easily. Walk close, plunge the knife into its side, and cut it open. Except the thought of it is enough to make bile rise in the back of her throat. She owes the loss of one leg to a dragon, but she realises now that this isn't accurate. A dragon didn't signal her out from the crowd and decide, _well, guess I'll die on this one and make her life hell_. A human did that. Very likely, a dragon just wanted some fucking food. 

Which, hell, she can understand. Sheep can be delicious. 

“Fuck, I'm useless,” she laughs, brushing away tears of frustration. “Look at you! You're lying there, out cold because of _my_ weapon, and I could kill you now and claim victory, but _no_ , I decide to have a change of heart now, of all times!” 

It's dumb. It's ridiculous, but she's going to set it free. If she shows Chief Kane that the catapult works, they're going to turn it around and use it to hunt dragons to annihilation, not to defend themselves better. Raven doesn't want to be a part of furthering the machines of war. 

A great goal to have when you're the village blacksmith. 

She gets up from the ground, and takes a cautious step forward. “Okay, you just...lie there and sleep this off,” she murmurs. “I'll get these ropes off, and you can...fuck off, I guess, I don't know. Just don't wake up, okay? Nice dragon.” 

Her knife doesn't get close enough to the rope. 

In the blink of an eye, she's on her back, with a roaring dragon in her face. She does the only logical thing: she shouts back at it. This goes on back and forth for a bit, until her voice cracks on the last yell; the dragon closes its maw, and tilts its head, looking down at her as if asking _was that all you've got?_

“Don't judge me,” she snaps at it. “I don't usually have yell-offs with dragons.” 

The dragon blinks, this lazy sort of unimpressed blink that says it very much _is_ judging her. 

She cuts it free from the ropes, and gets ready for a fight. This will be a fair fight, at least. 

But the weirdest thing happens, instead. With a roar of disgust, the dragon jumps off her, and tries to take off. Operating word being _tries_. 

She hears it continue to lift off, and each pained sound of protest the dragon makes as it crashes down to the ground clumsily feels like a punch to the gut. Eventually, it falls somewhere, and that's that. 

She could just go home now. Never speak of this again. 

Except...

She knows fear when she sees it. So she gets up, and follows the trail again. 

\---

Here are the things she learns about dragons in the following weeks:

One, a wounded dragon with a missing tail wing will not be able to maintain flight long enough to escape the valley it lands in. Unfortunately, this does not end well for the fish population in the lake, which gets brought down to nothing. 

Fortunately, Raven can carry fish from the village with her. Since she broke it, it's sort of her responsibility now to fix it.

\---

Two, it's probably not a good idea to name the dragon, but she's full of really bad ideas lately, and besides, it tried to share its fish with her! So they're friends now. 

She considers calling it Finn, because of the one he's missing, or because in her ancestors' language it kind of means _the end_ , but the name doesn't seem to suit it, and is met with barfing out a fish head. 

“You gross, toothless wonder,” she says, and is rewarded a toothless grin. 

So the dragon has a name now. 

\---

Three, it's definitely not a good idea to try and ride a dragon. Usually when her people end up on the back of a dragon, it's to slay it. Raven likes breaking the mould. 

It takes a while to come up with the design of the prosthetic tail; Toothless will need that, if he wants to fly again. 

In the meantime, it's not as if life in Arkadia stops. Dragons still come to take their sheep, and Raven still has to repair weapons, and Octavia is still trying to convince her that her brother is incredibly into her. Nothing changes. 

Except that Raven spends her free time in a clearing with a dragon, taking notes of everything she learns, and in that way, everything changes. 

\---

Four, dragons hate loud, disruptive noises, because it dulls their sense of direction.

She learns this quite casually. One day, she brings him food in a metal cauldron, and when it's empty and washed, and the dragon is sleeping on a pile of burnt sand, Raven grows restless. So she starts tapping the cauldron rhythmically, grinning when Toothless' ears perk up in interest. She continues, whistling cautiously to see if it's allowed, and is rewarded with one lizard-like eye opening and focusing on her. The pupil is first a slit, then it is round; the sign of a pleased, curious dragon. 

She carries on the song, a song about the gods and the seasons and gets up from the ground, showing Toothless what dancing is like. 

It's a gods damned miracle, that the dragon follows with his unbelievable curiosity, moving his large body around her, imitating dance. (So, three and a half: Toothless likes to copy her; for example, when she drew him in the sand, he drew... _something_ , too.)

She laughs, and carries on, and carries on, and then there's that infamous drum solo to the song. The eyes go from round to slits again, and there's a sudden growl, and a Night Fury trying to come at her, and a Night Fury faceplanting in the sand. 

She doesn't try with music after that. 

\---

One night when the dragons come – not attack, she's not calling it that anymore – it's a horde of Gronkles. She sees them first, being in the forge at work, and instead of sounding the alarm, she grabs two pots and rushes out. 

The clanging sounds work on other species, it turns out. 

Disoriented as they are, she manages to chase the Gronkles away, before anyone can be wiser. 

Or at least, so she thinks. 

As the last Gronkle flies out, Raven allows herself a victorious twirl and whoop, and spins right into Bellamy's chest. 

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, as a way of greeting, holding her away and steadying her by her shoulders. 

“Gronkles,” she answers. 

“I know they were Gronkles, Raven, what did _you_ do to make them leave?”

“Noise? They get dizzy from it, it triggers their flight response.”

“And how do you know this?”

“I'm a genius. Hello. We've met before, right?”

Bellamy gives her a suspicious look, and lets go of her. (Which she doesn't regret and certainly doesn't wish for more of.)

“You should tell Chief -” 

Raven interrupts him with a snort of laughter. “No offence, Bellamy, but he will not listen to anything I say. All he hears when I speak is his own guilt, for two years ago, so... Hard pass.”

Bellamy swallows a knot in his throat, and lets his gaze drop. “Raven, I'm sorry that -” 

“Don't.” She takes a step back. “It was you or me.” Shrugging one shoulder, she stuffs her hands in her pockets. “I wasn't going to let it be you.” 

“You didn't need to push me out of the way...”

“Yeah, well. I do a lot of things that I don't need to do.” Silence hangs between them a little longer, until it chokes her, and she turns around to leave. “Anyway, goodnight.”

\---

Following the high of her non-violent victory against the Gronkles, Raven takes the prosthetic tail wing to the clearing. 

She has to do a lot of silly gesturing around to make Toothless understand what she intends to do, and how she intends to help him fly out of the clearing he's locked himself in, but eventually she is welcomed closer with a reluctantly bowed head. 

“Your breath smells,” she says, meaning to dispel the tension, and receives a gurgled laugh for her efforts. 

The tail fits perfectly. 

“Do I know my stuff, or do I know my stuff?” she asks of nobody in particular, and then proceeds to climb onto the back of a Night Fury. 

\---

Five: flying feels... There are no words to describe it. 

The first flight is a combination of panic and yelling and nearly plunging to her death before Toothless catches her. The second one, after a silent acknowledgement of the fact that they have bonded now, goes better. 

It goes so much better than better. 

There is wind in her hair, there is a vertiginous distance between her and the ground – and then the sea, as they fly out – and there is freedom. Up here, on the back of a dragon, she is a bird. She is Raven, strong and boisterous and stubborn and smart, and free. 

They stay in the air for a while; she gets acquainted with flying, and Toothless gets used to it again. 

Eventually, they come down from a combination of exhaustion and hunger, and land in the clearing, where Raven has some fish ready in a basket. 

Bellamy is standing in front of the basket, his arms crossed. 

She has half a mind to tell Toothless to fly again, and run, and never return, except that Bellamy's hand is nowhere near his sword, so she can tell he isn't about to attack. He's just... 

Well, she doesn't know. She can't exactly read him anymore. 

“You found a Night Fury,” he says as way of greeting, keeping his distance. 

Raven climbs down from Toothless' back, aware that the dragon is trying to decide how much of a threat Bellamy is or isn't. Not for the first time in his life, what stands between Bellamy and being mauled by a dragon is Raven. 

“I _kind of_ found a Night Fury,” she says, and pats Toothless on the back. “You can't tell Chief Kane.” 

“Why? Why shouldn't I tell – holy fuck, Raven, are you _out of your mind?_ You have a Night Fury letting your ride it and your instinct is to hide?!”

“Yes! Because they'll just try to kill it, and they can't! They're not dangerous, Bellamy, we _make_ them be! Dragons don't hunt, they don't come to kill, they just want food, and we attack so they attack back and it's never going to end.”

“This is exactly why we need to tell him that they can be tamed.” 

“I – what? Toothless isn't tamed.”

“You _rode it_.” 

“ _He_ let me. I had to earn his trust, he didn't exactly _roll over_.” 

Right on cue, Toothless rolls over on his back, tongue stuck out of his mouth like he does when he expects a bigger fish for being cute. Raven glares at him for being a fucking traitor. “Okay, that doesn't prove any – Bellamy?”

He's gone. 

“Fuck. Toothless, get up,” she says, rushing to climb back onto his back. “We have to go stop him from being a dumbass.”

\---

“Okay, boy, let go and catch.” 

Bellamy screams indignantly as he plunges down through thin air, and then lands with an _oof_ on Toothless' back, right behind her. On instinct, he scrambles closer to Raven, and wraps his arms around her waist. 

“I almost died.”

“Drama queen.” 

“Fuck you, Raven, not everyone falls with grace!”

“You wouldn't have died! I'd never let that happen, I just needed you to not be a snitch.” 

“By giving me a _final ride_?”

“Bellamy. Bellamy, breathe. Look around you. You're flying. Nobody's flown on a dragon before but you and I. Try to enjoy this moment for a while, before you fight me.” 

There is silence, and the grip around her waist tightens. She tries to keep her breathing levelled, despite having Bellamy's chest pressed against her back. 

“Not bad for a runt, is it?” she asks, in a joke. 

His lips feel close to the back of her head when he speaks, above the winds. “I never thought you were a runt.” 

The words make something lock in her throat, and Raven wants to say it: _Let's talk about the battle. I know you think I blame you. I don't. I know you think I hate you for it, but I don't. We used to be able to talk. We used to spar, and play, and run together, and now you look at me like I'm extra baggage on your shoulders. I want to be this – I want to be the wind that makes you soar, not the weight that pulls your neck down. Please, let's talk about the battle._

Then, suddenly, Toothless changes course. 

\---

Six: there is a monster worth fearing far more than any dragon they have met until now. 

After witnessing the reason why dragons steal more sheep than they should be able to eat, everything becomes clear. They fly back to Arkadia in silence and horror, with Bellamy tensely still behind her, his hold on her different. 

The village becomes visible in the distance, sprinkling of lights in the windows of those huts whose occupiers are still awake; Raven swallows a knot in her throat. 

“We have to help them,” she says, and they both know she's not talking about Arkadians. “We can't let this carry on. They're helpless. Either that thing eats them, or we kill them. I can't believe... we have to help.” 

Toothless lands with resignation, and Bellamy jumps off first, helping her climb down even though he doesn't have to. Maybe he wants to keep his hands on her, ground himself in the touch; gods know that Raven needs it too, or she will start laughing hysterically from the panic, and never stop. 

A small laugh escapes her as soon as her feet hit the ground, and her knees feel weak and wobbly, and Odin help her, how is she going to save dragons from that beast? Most dragons don't want to be saved – no, that's not it; most dragons don't trust humans (rightfully so) to let them interfere. The only one who does – and their best chance and defeating the monster – is Toothless, who in comparison to _it_ is a runt.

“Bellamy -” 

He kisses her. It's not the best timing. 

There may have been times in the past when she had wished Bellamy would up and do exactly this thing, but they'd still been friends back then, they'd been a team, they'd been close. That he's doing it now, maybe to shock the panic out of her, or out of himself, informs her regrettably that he probably doesn't mean it. 

The kiss ends on a bitter note. 

But Bellamy still looks at her like he thinks she can do anything, all serious, dark eyes, and she can see where she bit his lip just now, and it makes something in her throat and stomach tighten. He tucks her hair behind her ear, and runs the back of his fingers down her cheek, leaning in to press his forehead against hers.

“Okay. I'll help. What do you have in mind we do?”

\---

“I'm riding a Nightmare! Ahhhh, this is the best night ever!”

Bellamy's glare is vicious, even from where he sits on the back of a Nadder. “If that thing burns my sister, I am throwing you off a cliff.” 

Raven grins at him, as Octavia takes the Nightmare up and down in a loop while cheering. 

“You are not. And she's not going to burn Octavia. They shared fish, they're friends now.”

“Why couldn't we be the village that gets attacked by vicious kittens?” Miller moans from the back of one head of the Zippleback. “Why dragons?”

“I mean,” Monty says, from the other head. “I agree with the living our best lives sentiment.” 

“We're so screwed.” 

“We're not,” Bellamy says, with resignation. “Everybody listen to Raven. We don't have a long time to train these dragons. Our boats set out in a week. We have to get the dragons ready before that happens.” 

“You know, it's a great thing we had all these dragons for training locked up,” Octavia shouts from above them, the pure picture of stealth. “Almost like an ideal plot point or something!”

\---

The agreement is that they will form a team, and fly out the day the boats carrying their warriors do, but in an opposite direction. Chief Kane is determined to find the dragons' nest, and he is thankfully mistaken about its location. Raven can only be glad for this, shuddering to think the wreckage that would happen, if their people faced that thing alone, if they came upon it. 

Stealthy training after dark with the dragons that their village keeps prisoners proves difficult without setting the dragons free, first. 

Fortunately, it isn't so hard to get them back into their pens before sunrise, with a few extra fish to go around, and – as Monty keeps saying – Bob is their uncle.

\---

There is one thing they do not count on: parents. 

They're perceptive creatures sometimes, parents. Raven is flying so high on the rush of being the centre of attention, leading training sessions and pretending like she's the top dog when it comes to dragon knowledge, that she forgets how hard pride can make you fall.

They are discovered on the day the ships are due to sail. 

While the other dragons are in the pens, Raven always flies Toothless out to the clearing, to hide him away. 

Bellamy flies back with her, to make sure she's okay, because it's a tense day; she insists that she's fine, that the Chief will expect his heir to be present for the launch to battle, but the truth is that she doesn't fight him too hard on it. 

Flying with Bellamy behind her is comforting. A few minutes in, he forgets the weight and baggage, and his hold on her will change. He will pull her closer, he will close his eyes – she imagines he closes her eyes, because she would – and he will nuzzle her hair with his nose, with all that affection he keeps such a tight reign on. 

Except they are flying to a dangerous battle today, and she wants to set the record straight. 

“Why do we never talk about the battle?” she asks, as he starts to nuzzle her hair. He pulls away like she just drenched him in cold water.

“I thought... I thought you hated to.” 

She says, “I mean, I'm not glad it happened. But I didn't think...I didn't think I'd lose _you_ and my leg. I never blamed you. I never intended to push you away, but you did. And then you went and kissed me, and now we don't talk about _that_ , either.”

“To be fair,” Bellamy says, after a while, “I did that to stop a panic attack.”

“Well, you can't just kiss me to shut me up! If I'm gonna get kissed, it better be because whoever's kissing me thinks I am the world _hottest_ \--”

He kisses her.

He pulls her against his chest suddenly, and a gentle hand tips her head back, and he is kissing her. It's a horrible angle to have her neck at. It's the best kiss she's had. 

“You _are_ ,” he breathes against her lips, “the world's hottest, and most infuriating--”

“Don't ruin it,” she breathes out, and turns around at the waist to attack his lips again. 

Toothless lands a little harder than he should've, and with a bratty growl, tosses them off his back. They tumble on the ground, laughing, Raven landing on top of him, her chest pressed against his, her hands holding her steady by the waist. 

“Probably deserved that,” he says, his smile youthful and honest and so beautiful she wants to kiss it all over. 

“You've got more freckles,” she says, tracing his nose with a light fingertip. Her head is spinning, knees weak from what just happened, from the past two weeks. But it still doesn't stop her from hearing the telling sound of a catapult being launched. 

Her head snaps up, panic clawing at her chest. “Toothless, _run_!” 

The net pins Toothless down before he can even take off. 

\---

“You can't do this,” she begs, only Sinclair holding her physically from committing regicide. “Please - _please_ \- let him go.”

“He will lead us to the nest,” Chief Kane says, watching as they lower Toothless onto the leading boat. “And you,” he adds, looking at her and at his son – standing behind her in solidarity - “will not be joining us.” 

\---

“They're going to die.” 

It's her and Bellamy in the cell together, because thankfully the elders have not realised there are more involved in this plot than the two of them. They've been here an hour. By now, the boats will be halfway to the island, with Toothless leading the way. 

Raven's heart is a small little kernel of ore, tight and hardened. There's a fire she wants to throw herself into, but it's far away. She closes her eyes, and all she can see is the look of betrayal and anguish on Toothless' face. She closes her eyes, and all she can see are the chains that bound her dragon to the boat. 

She keeps her eyes closed; she can hear the chains slamming shut. The chains clanging to the deck, like a large metal door being opened.

“Hey, nice digs,” says Octavia. “Not exactly the honeymoon suite, but I like that you two can improvise.” 

Raven's eyes snap open. 

“He's not the only dragon we have,” Bellamy says where he stands, in front of her with his hand out to help her get up from the floor. His stance is calm, the kind of sure calmness that he gets before a council meeting; she realises that he's the one who staged this breakout, while she panicked at the thought of losing Toothless. 

She could kiss him. 

She grabs his hand, lets him pull her up, and yanks him forward by his shirt to kiss him. 

“Oh, ew, I changed my mind. This is gross. Guys? Guys, please stop. Stop, I'm only sixteen, I shouldn't be seeing this kind of behaviour.”

Raven shows Octavia her middle finger, while Bellamy laughs against her lips, and pulls her up against him with both hands around her waist. For a moment, she is floating. 

Then, he sets her down. 

“Alright. Let's go fly some dragons.” 

\---

The rest of the day is in flashes. 

They flight in pursuit of their ships. The horror that awaits them on the island. The beast is unleashed, free of its mountainous cave – her catapults, she realises, with pure anger at Chief Kane – and laying waste to their ships. 

The moment Sinclair's eyes catch hers, the glance he gives the water, the apology in his eyes, the plea. She doesn't wait for more of a hint, diving into the water from the back of Bellamy's Nadder before he can realise her intention. 

Toothless. 

Struggling to pull the chains open. Remembering she has tools, using them under water. Swimming up to catch her breath, struggling to swim back down to reach Toothless again. Failing. 

Bellamy diving in with the Nadder – she really needs a name – and taking her tools as she claws for the surface again. 

Toothless. 

Flying, soaring. Firing. 

Lightning, fire, thunder, oh the gods must be happy today. 

The monster dragon, roaring its last roar, and Toothless falling, herself on top of his back, his prosthetic fin burnt to a crisp. 

Darkness. 

\---

She wakes up in her hut. 

It's warm inside it, a fire crakling in the fireplace, a cauldron above it, bubbling away at water with mint leaves. Her home, warm; it's so unusual, Raven thinks she must be hallucinating. 

She must be. There's a Night Fury sleeping by the fire, and the eldest son of the Chief is sipping tea at her table, her book on dragons open in front of him. 

_Maybe this is Valhala,_ she thinks. _Maybe I deserved it._

The room does have that glow to it, almost golden. But when she looks around it, her mother is nowhere to be found. 

“You're awake,” says Bellamy, the book closed with a soft sound. Her chair creaks when he gets up, and that's the detail that pulls her back to reality. Namely, this is reality. 

“I am?”

His hand is warm, too, and smells like mint leaves, when he touches it gently to her cheek. She feels her throat closing up again, and nuzzles it with her hand. 

“Hey,” she says. All that she wants to follow that with gets postponed by Toothless waking up, and climbing on top of her, slobbering all over her face with pure joy. 

Bellamy laughs at the scene. “I love you, but you're not kissing me with that mouth.”

\---

The Arkadia that awaits her, when she pulls out of her slumber – one whole week, in and out, barely aware of her surroundings – is completely different. 

It's the Gronkles that prove this first. 

“They're really great hammer replacements,” Sinclair says, with a proud smile. 

“You didn't have to adopt seven of them.” 

“Seven Gronkles, and they're still not as much of a pain as you are.” He hugs her tight before she can protest, and Raven can only hold on tight, tight, tight. 

 

If Toothless – if all dragons can forgive Arkadia for its past transgressions, and viceversa, then who is Raven to be contrary? And if her people can try and coexist now with the creatures they feared and hunted in equal measure, then she will have to help them – both sides – bury the hatchet. 

The last lesson dragons teach her: you never abandon your pack.


End file.
